A Mug without a Handle.

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January Man

Being cooped up in the warm is an ideal opportunity to see just what you have got in those old boxes. It’s a nice job in the warm and as Spring seems some way off I was not in the mood for Spring cleaning, although after removing all the decorations there is certainly a need for it.

I had just read all about ‘de-cluttering’. It said.......

“Declutter! Dejunk! Throw away!”

“Go on! Chuck out all your useless sentimental bits and bobs, and silly souvenirs.

In this digitalised 21st century, your home should be shiny, bare and minimalist - like those shown in television commercials and posh property magazines.“

This article is itself a load of rubbish!

If there is one thing I can’t stand - it’s a home that doesn’t look ‘lived in’.

Untidy….no. Lived in……yes.

I’m not untidy. I keep all my bits and pieces in boxes. Usually labelled.

Boxes of old photos, boxes of old musical instruments awaiting repair, boxes of old postcards and boxes and boxes of old LPs.

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And there I found my old Folk records from 40 years ago. Yes 1970 this record by Dave Goulder & Liz Dyer. I had previously bought the album ‘Requiem for Steam’ and enjoyed Dave's songs very much so I followed it up with ‘January Man’.

Dave is now 72. His birthday was funnily enough 1st January so perhaps that is where the title comes from?

So should I be throwing all this out?

In fact, according to a new survey carried out by YouGov and a self-storage company, it may even be bad for us, leading to all kinds of later regrets.

"Should we really have thrown out that box of postcards?

To most of us, the baggage we collect through life brings with it little jolts of memories. And when we throw out that baggage, we're carelessly depriving ourselves of those constant reminders of how we reached this point."

No, we need to save something.

My Aunt she died a month ago,

And left me all her riches.

A feather bed, a wooden leg,

And a pair of calico britches.

A coffee pot without a spout,

A mug without a handle,

A baccy box without a lid,

And half a farthing candle.

Is there anything sadder than going into the bedroom of an old person confined to a care home and who now has space for little more than a few photographs?

But lets end with a smile:-

I’ve got a pile of rubbish

That doesn’t mean a thing,

In fact, each time I look at it

My eyes begin to sting.

Despite its dreary presence

I’ve come to realise

It really would be suitable

To win the “Turner Prize!”

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